The Turn Series Box Set

by Andrew Clawson

  “Mr. Cheyo.” The man walked in and stood beside two empty chairs, hands tucked into his jacket pockets.

  “Have a seat.” Juma reached across the desk, offering his hand. “What is your name?”

  “Chris.”

  “You want to discuss something you heard today?”

  If Juma hadn’t grown up in Africa, hadn’t known what atrocities men were capable of, he might have flinched, but he barely glanced at the stub of an arm that appeared from inside the man’s jacket. “This one is not good for shaking,” the man said.

  “Understood. So, what did you hear today?”

  Chris looked around him. “You have men gathering rhino horns.”

  “Yes. Do you want to join the team? You did not volunteer.”

  “I know nothing about the rhino. But today I overheard someone who does know, a man trying to stop us from poaching.” Chris’s gaze shifted to a beer bottle on Juma’s desk, following the droplets of condensation as they ran down the brown glass.

  “What were you doing in the police station today?” Juma reached under his desk and flipped the cooler open, then offered the man a cold bottle, nodding toward the bottle opener on his desk. Chris clenched the bottle opener between his teeth and popped the top in one smooth motion, the bottle at his lips before the metal cap landed.

  “Thank you.” He lifted the drink in salute. “The police brought me in for questioning about the warehouse fight. I told them I was not there. They sat me on a bench to wait for hours, and I think they forgot about me.”

  “I see.” Juma sipped from his own bottle, one eyebrow going up. “How does this involve the rhinos and elephants?”

  Chris leaned forward. “They put me outside the chief’s office. A man came to visit, a local businessman I know. Reed Kimble.” The name meant nothing to Juma. “He owns Kimble Safaris.”

  “I have heard of the place,” Juma said. “How do you know this man?”

  Chris shrugged. “You live here long enough, you know people. I recognized him.”

  Juma leaned forward, put his elbows on the rough wood. “What did they discuss?”

  “They have a task force to stop all poaching. He asked the police chief to investigate the elephants killed a few days ago. But the chief, he said he cannot help today because of the warehouse killings. He tells Reed to get more information for him. But Reed Kimble will not stop. He is going out to investigate on his own.”

  “Why should I care? He can do nothing to me. A lion does not fear the mouse.”

  “Kimble is an experienced safari guide,” he said. “I have heard things about this man.”

  Juma’s eyes narrowed, his beer bottle pausing halfway to his lips. “What kind of things?”

  “His safaris have not always been for pictures. He was a big game hunter. People from around the world came to hunt with him.”

  “So what? Africa is full of hunters. Do you think I am afraid of a man like this? He does not even use his guns anymore.”

  “Other men work for him.” The man’s lone hand went up. “A man with power, a man like you, needs to know what is happening.”

  A valid point. It seemed Chris didn’t want to challenge him. He wanted the same thing as Juma: to survive another day, and to make his next day better. “Thank you for this information.”

  Juma leaned back and looked past Chris. With Wafa coming to visit, now wasn’t the time to take chances, however small. “I cannot let a man like this interfere, even though he is a small man, one who does not concern me.” Chris nodded and drained his beer. “This Reed Kimble must go away and never come back. He cannot get in the way of our success.”

  Reaching for another beer, Juma popped the top and handed it to Chris. Only after the man took another long swallow did he continue. “Are you a man I can count on, Chris?”

  “Yes, Mr. Cheyo. I am.”

  “Good to hear. I have a mission for you. Reed Kimble must be buried in the dirt, along with his employees. His company must no longer exist. If I give you the weapons and the men, can you make this happen?”

  The stump reverberated off Juma’s table. “Yes.”

  “Come back in two hours. I will have the guns and men for you, and you will attack tonight.” Juma grabbed his phone and clicked through the contact list, searching for hard men, the kind who killed without hesitation. Hard men, but not his best. This operation didn’t warrant such resources.

  For some reason, as he flicked through the list, Chris didn’t leave. “Yes?” Juma finally asked, his voice a low growl.

  “There is more, Mr. Cheyo.” Juma didn’t respond, and the words tumbled out of Chris’ mouth, chasing each other across the table. “Reed Kimble said he learned of the dead elephants from someone. I do not know who, but someone who knew of the killings told him.”

  How could that be? The elephants had died in the middle of nowhere, far from civilization. Only indigenous tribesmen or a lone safari guide could have come across them as quickly as Reed Kimble had. Tribesmen didn’t move through that region much any longer, not with Juma’s men around. Which left only one other way Reed could have learned of the killings so quickly.

  “There’s a rat in here. Kimble could not have known about the dead elephants on his own so soon. He was told about them.”

  “I agree.” Chris stood. “It is important you know this, so what you are building does not fall apart so soon. I will be back in two hours.” He drained his second beer and set the bottle on the desk.

  Juma regarded him thoughtfully. Could Chris be the leak? Had he told Juma about this to throw suspicion away from him? Chris departed, and Juma rubbed his eyes wearily. Suspicion kept a man alive, but you couldn’t suspect everyone. At some point trust had to happen if he were to keep his grip on power. Cautious trust, perhaps, but trust all the same. The kind of paranoia that would settle in if you never trusted anyone would rip an organization apart. For now, he’d believe Chris.

  “I will keep my eye on everyone,” he said to himself.

  Now, however, he needed to resolve this business with the safari guide. Locals needed to respect his strength, and it would not do to have a safari guide standing up to him. There was a second problem, one only he knew about, but it would have to wait. The men he’d sent out to gather ivory had yet to report back. Five men, and no word since they’d left. Perhaps the elephants weren’t close to the city and they had had to travel farther than expected. Or perhaps this rat had whispered in the wrong ear and the whole operation was in danger.

  As his plan for handling Reed Kimble took shape, a nagging thought grew in the back of Juma’s head. A thought he shouldn’t be having, not now. Earlier today, he’d spoken with Leda, talked about her plans now that they were finally together. About their plans.

  “Are you sure it is best for me to stay here?” she’d asked.

  Tucked away in his headquarters, Leda couldn’t have been safer. All of Juma’s men, his firepower, it was all here. Anyone wanting to get her would have to come through a serious group of men, first of all Juma Cheyo. “Yes,” he’d told her. “There is nowhere better. You are with me now. Here is your new home.”

  She had gazed out over the dusty city as they spoke, sitting cross-legged on a bed while he kept his eyes on her. “The last place I stayed was like this. Look what happened there.”

  “No man is a match for me,” Juma said. What was wrong with her? He had rescued her, taken her from a place she had never wanted to be, and now she was having second thoughts? “Do you want to go away?”

  “I am not sure,” she said. A breeze lifted the curtains. “Who is to say how long I will be safe here?”

  “As long as you are with me, nothing will hurt you.” He walked over and laid a hand on her shoulder. She didn’t move away, but didn’t face him either. “I promise.”

  “I know you mean it,” she said, laying her hand on top of his. “But what about you?”

  “What do you mean?”

  She turned and looked into his narrowe
d eyes. “How long will you be safe? This life, the dangers you face. How long before it catches up to you?”

  He’d only just taken control of Mwanza, and she was questioning his ability to keep it. “No man has the strength to stop me.” Juma pointed through the window. “This city is mine now. It is ours, a place to become rich.”

  “Is it also a place to grow old?” She looked away after asking, and he didn’t have a response. “I am not sure,” she said. “So many people we know have died, lost this battle, and are buried in the dirt. Only a few have survived this long, living as we do. Perhaps there is a better way.” Now she too pointed over the city, though her aim was far beyond the farthest building. “Out there.”

  One of his men had knocked on her door before he could respond. “I will be back soon,” he said before leaving. She didn’t respond, still looking out the open window as he walked away.

  The unfinished conversation had stayed with him all day, was with him even now as he set the plan in motion to handle Reed Kimble. Once this was finished, he would speak with her again, discover what she had really wanted to say. Whatever it was, she hadn’t told him yet.

  By the time Chris returned, seven other men were gathered in Juma’s headquarters. Two canvas bags sat open on his desk; the dull gleam of oiled metal reflected in the weak light. Juma introduced Chris to his new team, then looked each man in the eye.

  “Your mission is to eliminate a safari guide who operates outside of Mwanza. His name is Reed Kimble. Find him and kill him.”

  Chapter 12

  Kimble Safaris

  Outside Mwanza, Tanzania

  A pair of headlights cut through the night, bouncing across the savanna on a direct line back to Kimble Safaris. Behind the wheel, Reed listened as Sarah talked through their recon, searching for any weaknesses, any soft spots in their plan. If the rhino attack were to happen soon, better to find the faults now.

  “Where the river bends is a slight valley, and the scrub gets thick about twenty feet from one bank,” Sarah said. “If we wait there, we could be five feet away from them and they’d have no idea. That’s my vote.”

  Reed swerved to avoid a fallen branch. “The other side is open too, so Paul will have to bring his men along those trees. But they may decide to shoot from across the river and come over to get the horns after the rhino are dead.”

  “Which risks losing wounded rhino in the woods.”

  Exactly what he’d thought, but he wanted to hear it from her first. Reed looked into the rear seat, where Paul sat beside Doc. “Paul, you say they need to be as close as possible to the rhino – rhino hides are tough.”

  Paul scratched Doc’s ears. “I will take care of it.”

  Clouds covered the moon, which backlit a circular portion of the sky. In a country where temperatures rarely dropped below roasting, the cool night air left goosebumps on his forearms. The Jeep’s eight cylinders growled up a rise, bringing the lights of Kimble Safaris into view.

  Sarah stood in her seat, the wind buffeting her hair as she leaned over the windshield. “Looks like some of the men are still awake.” She sat back down and turned to Paul and Doc. The Belgian Shepherd had been in his element tonight, scouring the ground for any scents to help them find rhino trails. This dog would be amped up for hours, and Reed expected the furry guy wouldn’t sleep until morning. “Paul, I hope you don’t have to work late tonight.”

  “I am technically off-duty,” Paul said. “I plan to sleep. There is no telling when I will be able to again.”

  “We don’t have tours booked until later in the week, so the other guys are probably catching up on logistical prep work.” Reed pointed to several dark guest cabins. “When guests are on site, the work starts before sunrise and goes well past when all visitors have gone to bed. Maintenance and preparations happen when we’re alone. Plus, I gave most of them time off. It’ll be a skeleton crew for the next couple of days.”

  The few men still on site waved as Reed rolled through the compound, one man using a power washer under the glare of sodium lights, another servicing a vehicle inside the garage. Reed pulled to a stop in front of his cabin, and Sarah hopped out as the engine fell silent.

  “Can you handle the gear? I have to use the ladies’ room.”

  “No problem.”

  She vanished through the front door, and he followed, hefting the bags with his weapons and night-vision gear over one shoulder. Thankfully the guns hadn’t been used, so he didn’t have to worry about cleaning them tonight. Fatigue stole over his body, a heavy weight on each step. Hell, he didn’t even want a beer. No need to mess with the big safe either. Weaponry clattered as he dumped the duffel bags in front of the safe, his clothes and boots trailing behind him as the bed called his name.

  When Sarah came in a minute later, he barely cracked an eye before sleep overtook him. The last thing he saw was Doc padding in to take a spot at the foot of his bed.

  Reed blinked, and the world came roaring back an instant later. Fog clouded his mind. He glanced at the clock; two hours had gone by since he’d lain down. It was just three in the morning. Not like him, waking up in the middle of the night. Sleep’s strong hands pulled him back under; his eyelids flickered shut.

  And then snapped back open when Doc growled, the low rumble spurring Reed into action. “What is it, boy?” Reed whispered to him, but Doc didn’t move. He kept staring at the window, growling softly. Reed rubbed his eyes as he slid from beneath the sheets, while Sarah’s even breathing kept on. As he moved toward the window, reddish light flickered around the edges, dancing across the wall. Something popped, then crackled. Reed knew that sound.

  Fire.

  He pulled the blinds aside to find flames in the window of the building across from him, the first tendrils of dark smoke snaking skyward.

  “Sarah, wake up!” He grabbed her shoulder. “Get up now.”

  “Huh?” She fumbled to sit up. “What is it?”

  “Fire. Get out.”

  She got to her feet in a flash and darted to the door. Before she reached it, another sound filled the air and they both stopped moving.

  Gunfire.

  “Don’t go outside,” he shouted. Reed raced to lock his dogs in the bedroom and then ran to the front door as the chatter of automatic weapons erupted across the compound.

  “Is someone attacking us?”

  “Yes. Come on.” Thankful that he’d left their weapons out, Reed yanked open the duffel bag and gave Sarah a pistol and extra ammunition. “Be sure it’s loaded.” The pistol in his hand carried a full magazine, as did the rifle he slung over one shoulder. “When I get out there, you go around back and take the Jeep.” A pair of keys jangled as he slapped them into her hand. “Don’t wait, just get out of here. Go into town and get the police.”

  “And leave you here?” She threw the keys back at him. “I’m not leaving. Period.”

  “Then stay with me, and don’t try to be a hero.”

  “Sounds like it’s getting ugly out there.”

  He pushed the door open. Orange and red light danced on the ground, the crackle of flames growing louder with staccato gunfire as a background beat. A full-scale assault had been launched. Dark figures raced across the grounds, their guns flashing in the night. Two men lay unmoving, one in a doorway, the other on a porch.

  “That’s our guy in the doorway,” Sarah said when he slid back inside. “I don’t know the one on the porch.”

  Reed lifted his rifle and pushed the door open, aiming for the yellow flashes of an automatic weapon. None of his crew had guns like that. He fired, and the flashes stopped. “Call the cops, and stay in the cabin. Shoot anyone who comes through the door that you don’t recognize.” Every instinct shouted at him to stay with her, though Sarah wasn’t having any of it.

  “I’m not just sitting here.” She lifted a nearby window and slid her rifle out, then looked up when he didn’t move. “I’m serious. What are you waiting for? Get moving.”

  “I’ll take
the back door. Don’t let your ammo run low. Keep Doc and the other dogs in my room.” With that, he turned for the back door. Once outside, a quick scan showed no signs of the intruders, but when he crept around one side of his cabin, the full scope of the attack came into view. Flames sprouted from half the buildings in his compound. He bent low and ran for the nearest building. Gunfire flashed from each direction, though none of it was automatic weaponry and in the dark it was impossible to tell who was on his side and who wasn’t. Shooting everything wasn’t an option, not when it could be Paul or another one of his men trying to defend the compound.

  “Need to get closer,” Reed muttered. Passing up on at least two clear shots, he moved toward the nearest source of gunfire. The mess hall was in front of him, with fire glowing through a broken front window. They must have tossed incendiary devices inside. He inhaled the sharp tang of gasoline mixed with acrid smoke. Enough gas to make sure the buildings burned, and fast. As Reed came to another corner of the building, he heard two voices speaking rapid-fire. Voices he didn’t recognize.

  You should have stayed away. He leaned around the corner to see two men facing away from him, firing into the night. Reed nestled his gun against his shoulder, the barrel pointing at the closest one. A deep breath, then he squeezed the trigger. The rifle barked and his target fell to the ground. He blinked, then the window by his head shattered.

  Hot air washed over him as Reed flew sideways. When he stopped rolling, his rifle had disappeared and the other gunman was searching for a target. Reed didn’t move. He could scarcely see, white lights flashing in his eyes from the blast. One hand snaked to his hip and the pistol holstered there. As he got hold of it, the surviving gunman saw him, lifting his rifle and firing in Reed’s direction.

  The guy mustn’t have been able to see either, because he missed. Twisting end over end, Reed barrel-rolled through the grass until he hit a foundation. Shards of concrete erupted as bullets pinged around him. Reed jumped up and snuck around the corner, out of clear sight and safe for the moment. He crouched with his back pressed to the building, sucked air, and checked his ammunition. If the shooter was smart, he’d come slowly and not burst around the corner. Of course, people with sense didn’t launch a murderous attack, so who knew what the guy would do.